


Cherry Cola

by lovemesomewalking



Category: South Park
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-20 20:44:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20681672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovemesomewalking/pseuds/lovemesomewalking
Summary: I would tell you that I loved you if I thought that you would stay. Sequel to "Pink Lemonade".





	1. Hospice

“Is everything ready? He’s gonna be here soon.”

Kenny poked his head into the spare bedroom of his apartment, which had sat empty since his old roommate had moved out half a year ago, to find Wendy fluffing a pillow on the twin-size bed she’d just finished making up.

“Just finished; whatchya think?” Wendy asked, gesturing around the room she’d spent the last few days decorating. It wasn’t as spacious as the one Kenny and Wendy kept beside it, but the girl had managed to turn it into a cozier niche than Butters ever had. She’d maximized the narrow room’s limited amount of space by pushing Butters’ old mattress into the corner, where it currently sat on the bedframe she’d brought over from her parents’ house earlier that week. She’d thrown a rug down to cover most of the room’s hardwood floor, and hung a pair of navy blue curtains around the window on the far wall, which went pretty well with the maroon bedspread she’d picked up at the Bed, Bath, and Beyond up in Middle Park. Next to the bed stood a short nightstand, on which Wendy had placed a quaint little alarm clock, a bedside lamp, and a small potted bamboo plant (which she thought really livened up the place).

“Not bad, right?” she asked. “I think the bamboo really livens up the place.”

“Totally,” Kenny answered. “This looks really good; you’re like, a miracle worker.” Despite the support, the boy sounded distracted.

“What’s up?” Wendy asked. “You sound distracted.”

“Ugh, sorry, I’m just… I’m nervous, I guess. Like, what if this is a bad idea? I mean, this is totally a bad idea, right?”

“What do you mean? Are you afraid things are gonna be weird because like… well… you and me…”

“Not exactly… it’s just… I dunno. Are you sure this is like… the best environment for him? You and I aren’t exactly, uh… good role-models.”

“You’re still worrying about that? I toooold you, it’ll be fine. He doesn’t know anything, so all we gotta do is keep things low-key. Stick to smoking on the roof, spray your car before you drive him anywhere… I dunno, I really don’t think we even need to worry about him wanting to smoke. I’d be more worried about booze, and neither of us really drink; we don’t even keep beer in the fridge.”

“I mean, I guess you’re right.”

Wendy slipped her arms around Kenny as the boy began to relax. “All we’re gonna have to do is clean up our act a little. Like I said, it’s gonna be fine.”

“I trust you.”

“You’re being a good friend,” the girl said, looking up at him.

Kenny leaned down to kiss her. “So are you.”

As their lips met, a series of knocks resounded through the apartment, bringing the couple’s attention to the front door.

“Oh, fuck,” Wendy swore, “He’s here.”

“Why are you swearing?” Kenny asked as they made their way towards the apartment’s entrance.

“Because I’m nervous, duh.”

“Ugh, what? You just got done telling me not to be nervous!”

“Yeah, well,” Wendy said quietly as they reached the door. “He’s not your ex-boyfriend.”

Kenny and Wendy opened the door to find Stan waiting outside, a backpack slung over his shoulder and two duffle bags resting on the floor at his feet. Seeing the shy smile on his face, they could tell that he was just as nervous as they were. The three of them just stood there for a moment, none of them saying anything. Finally, Stan broke the silence.

“…Hey guys.”

It took Kenny and Wendy another beat to respond.

“…Hey.”

** Hospice: noun; an arrangement intended to provide care and emotional support for the ill in a home or homelike setting, in order to maintain and improve the patient’s quality of life. **

About an hour later, Kenny and Wendy were seated on the couch in their living room as their guest stood before them, recounting a story from the past year of his life; Stan gestured dramatically as he spoke.

“The sea was angry that day, my friends – angrier than Mr. Garrison that time Cartman shit on his desk. I get about forty, fifty feet out, wading into the tide until I’ve reached where the whale was beached; and then, there it was… towering in front of me. I found myself unable to move, frozen in awe before the massive creature. As if sensing my presence, it let out a loud bellow, a cry of pain. It was then, watching the whale struggle, I realized that it couldn’t breathe. I’ll never forget how it looked at me. From where I was standing, I could see directly into the eye of the great fish.”

“Mammal,” Wendy interrupted.

“What?”

“Whales are mammals.”

Kenny shushed Wendy. “What happened next?” he asked.

“Well, then, from out of nowhere, I was picked up by a huge tidal wave – a wave that lifted me into the air and dropped me right. on. top. of the whale. Face to face… with its blowhole.”

Stand reached down by his feet and picked his backpack up from the floor, holding it up in front of him for Wendy and Kenny to see. They watched intently as the boy continued his tale.

“Now, I could barely see from the waves crashing down on us… but I could tell… that there was something in there. So I reached my hand in…” The boy’s hand disappeared into his backpack. “And I felt around. Until finally…I pulled out…”

Stan pulled out a baseball.

The couple gasped.

“Whoa, gross!” Kenny exclaimed with delight. “That thing was in a whale?”

“Kenny! Rude!” Wendy snapped at her boyfriend before turning back to Stan. “Jesus Christ Stan, that thing’s been in a whale?”

“Yep,” Stan gave the ball a little toss. “I’ve carried it with me ever since; as a reminder of all the good I can be capable of doing… and all the good I’ve been able to do in the past.” Returning the ball to his bag, Stan took a cross-legged seat on the carpet.

“Well the Peace Corps sounds like it was wild,” Kenny said.

“It sounds like it’s done you a lot of good, Stan,” Wendy added.

“It really has. I mean… it saved my life.”

The three grew silent. Afraid that he’d made things awkward, Stan tried to break the tension.

“I really wanna know what’s been going on around here, though! Like, what’s new in South Park?”

Wendy scoffed a little. “I mean it’s South Park so, like… not a lot.”

“Well, clearly some things have changed. I mean…” he gave them a smug grin. “There’s you two.”

Kenny and Wendy took a moment to realize what Stan was getting at. Looking to each other, the couple laughed nervously.

"Yeeaaaah..." they answered in unison, not sure what to say.

"I hope you guys don't feel weird because of... well, because of our history. I'm totally cool with this whole thing, I promise. I mean... I feel like Wendy wasted so much time on me back in school…”

"Stan," Wendy said sternly.

"No, come on, you did. You could've had like... an actual boyfriend that whole time but instead you… y’know, you had to deal with me and all my stuff. And Kenny, I don't really remember you ever having a girlfriend. So it's like... it's cool to see you two together, y’know?" An earnest smile formed on his face. “I’m glad you're both happy. This whole thing seems like it’s been going really well for you.”

Wendy and Kenny glanced at each other, unsure of how to react to their friend's blessing. Finally, Wendy shrugged, a playful smirk on her face.

"Eh, it's been going okay.”

Kenny scoffed and gave the girl a shove. “Oh fuck off!”

Stan laughed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get so sentimental. I've just been really nervous that you guys have been worrying that I'd be weird about the whole thing."

"Didn't even cross my mind," Kenny lied.

"I really wanna know how this like... happened, though! Like... you two? Out of everyone we went to school with? I mean, I would’ve never guessed."

Wendy chuckled nervously again and looked over at Kenny affectionately. "I know, right? Weird!"

"I mean, Wendy didn't really have anyone to hang out with after she didn't go back to school,” Kenny explained. “Then Ike kinda hooked us up at a party of his and I dunno, we just ended up spending more time with each other, I guess."

"And now you live together.” Stan smiled in amusement.

"When I'm home from school,” Kenny told him. “Wendy's been going back and forth between here and her parents' for the last year. I'm not sure what we're gonna do with the place when she goes back to NYU this fall."

Wendy practically moaned in pleasure. "Ugh, pleeeaaaase say that last thing you just said again."

Kenny smirked at her and repeated himself very deliberately. "When you go back to NYU this fall."

"Mmmmmmmm..." Wendy closed her eyes, her face beaming as she sunk into her seat.

"Whoa, you're going back?" Stan asked.

"Hell yeah I am!” The girl sat back up. "I mean, I got my associate’s at MPCC, which is great, but I wanna finish up my degree in the city."

"Man, good for you. Seriously. I remember you telling me what a struggle it was getting tuition money together, so it's cool that you were actually able to do it. I honestly don't know how anyone manages to pay for school."

"Eh. Just can't be afraid to get your hands dirty, I guess." She snuck a wink at Kenny.

"And Kenny, you're going to school in New York too? Art school?"

Wendy reached over and started messing up Kenny's hair. "First McCormick to go to college," she teased. "His junior year's comin' up."

"Quit iiiiiiitttt,” Kenny whined, trying to push her away.

Stan was grinning. "Damn; look at you guys. That's really great. Y'know, I never really thought about it before..." He laughed to himself. "But if anyone in this hellhole of a town deserves to be happy, I guess it would be you two."

"And Butters," Kenny added.

"Wherever he is," Wendy sighed.

"Oh, yeah,” Stan said, “you mentioned he used to live here, right? Like, I'm staying in his room?"

"Yeah,” Kenny explained. “Butters and I lived here together for like… three years? He even let me keep my room while I was away at school. Then one day he was just.... gone."

“What? He like, vanished?”

“Completely.”

"My bet's Hawaii," Wendy nodded.

"And so you guys just like bought the lease from his parents after he disappeared or something?"

"Uh..." Wendy started. She looked over at Kenny, not sure what she wanted to tell their friend. Kenny decided that they could at least be honest about one thing.

"Yeah… like… not.... not, like... not exactly, like that."

Stan looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

Wendy tried to explain. Uh... Butters' parents still… pay for the place?"

"What!" Stan scoffed.

"Yeah," she continued. “I... I dunno if they even know he's gone. I don't think they really check on him. Like it's been months and they haven't stopped paying the rent."

"It would proooobably be a good idea for us to get outta here by the time the lease is up at the end of the year, though,” Kenny said.

"Yeeeeaaaaaahhhh..." Wendy agreed.

Stan studied the couple in amusement. “You guys… seriously… how did you get like this?”

Kenny and Wendy looked at each other.

That was a long story.

* * *

After another hour or so of catching up, Kenny and Wendy showed Stan to his room and prepared to say goodnight.

“Anything else you need?” Wendy asked, after they’d helped him carry his things into the room.

“Oh, yeah,” Stan replied, “can I get your wi-fi password? By the way, why’s your network named ‘the trap’?”

The couple were silent.

Kenny coughed. “Wendy, would you like to tell Stan what our wi-fi password is.” The girl glared at him before realizing that Stan was still waiting for an answer.

“Uh, yeah, it’s. Uh, it’s. Forty-two… zero, six…. ninety-six…ninety-four…two … zero.”

Stan looked at his phone in confusion as he finished typing in the password, before turning his perplexed expression to his friends.

Kenny and Wendy smiled at him. “Anything else?” Wendy asked.

Stan let out a little laugh. “I think I’m good. I’m gonna try and get some sleep, I’ll see you two in the morning.” He gave Kenny and Wendy one last smile as they left the room. “Thanks again for letting me stay here. Goodnight, guys.”

“Night!” the couple said together as he shut the bedroom door. They both exhaled for what seemed like the first time since Stan had stepped foot in the apartment. After a few silent moments, Kenny turned to Wendy.

“Did you actually think he wouldn’t realize--”

“Oh shut up,” the girl grimaced. “That was low, McCormick. Even for you.”

“Well, you were the one who chose the name.”

Wendy sighed. “Whatever, it’s fine, he doesn’t know. We just need be better about that stuff. Both of us. We need to not be gross stoners.”

“Right, no, I totally agree with you.”

“Good, okay. So we’ll try harder.”

“We’ve totally got this.”

“Totally.”

“Totally.”

The couple fell silent.

“Sooooooooo do you wanna go get high up on the roof now that he’s asleep?”

“I thought you’d never fucking ask.”

* * *

The color drained from Stan’s knuckles as he tightened his grip around the heavy wooden bat in his hands. Swinging with all his might, the bat cut through the air and connected with his father’s arm, sending the older man to the ground. Randy lay on the floor, groaning and hissing in pain as he clutched the arm his son was hoping would shatter from the force of the bat. Grimacing, Stan’s father looked up at him.

“Y-you… you couldn’t even break my arm? You fuckin’ faggot.”

The boy screamed, bringing the bat down on his father – again, and again, and again, and again, and again. He hit him until the wood was stained with his blood, leaving the face of the man on the ground nearly indistinguishable. Taking a closer look, though, Stan realized that it wasn’t his father he’d been beating at all.

It was himself.

Stan’s eyes opened with a start as the boy awoke from his nightmare, sweating through his clothes and gasping for air. Fuck, he felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. Turning around in bed to face the nightstand next to it, he found that it was too dark to read the hands of the alarm clock that Wendy had gotten him. Instead, he picked up his phone, squinting at the illuminated screen as he brought it to life and checked the time to find that it was nearly half past two in the morning.

Sighing, he returned his phone to the nightstand and rested his head back on his pillow. Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, he was just about to try and go back to sleep when he heard Wendy’s voice shout from what sounded like the living room.

“Oh you fucking asshole!”

Surprised, Stan looked at his door in confusion. Everything was quiet until he heard the girl’s voice again.

“Fucking god DAMN IT!”

His curiosity getting the better of him, Stan rose from his bed and left his room. He made his way down the apartment’s short hallway to the living room, where he found Wendy and Kenny sitting in the dark, illuminated only by the glow of the television. Noting the Nintendo 64 controllers clutched in their hands, Stan looked to the screen to see that the couple was currently engaged in a fierce match of Super Smash Brothers – so fierce that they hadn’t even seemed to notice the boy enter the room. They sat on the floor, slouched against the foot of the couch, as they tapped away at their controllers furiously, eyes fixed on the TV. Around them lay a box containing a half-eaten pizza, and about four or five empty cans of soda, some of which had tipped over.

Stan debated simply turning around and going back to bed. God, but the scene begged too many questions for him to just leave. Finally, he decided to get their attention.

“Uh… guys?”

The couple jolted in surprise, Wendy’s controller leaping out of her hands.

“Oh, shit!” she swore, looking at Kenny, who returned her look of panic with one of his own. “Stan! Uh! What’s up! I’m really sorry, did we wake you up!”

“You’re yelling…” Kenny told her through clenched teeth.

“Ah! I mean, uh!” Wendy cleared her throat and tried again. “Stan! What’s up, everything okay? Sorry, were we being too loud? We just… uh….”

“We couldn’t sleep,” Kenny chimed in.

“We couldn’t sleep! So we decided that like, rather than just lay there in bed, we’d come out here and like…”

“Do something until we were tired enough to go back to bed.”

“Yes! Yes, that.”

Stan just looked at them. “Did you guys uh…. Did you guys order a pizza?”

The couple looked at the half-eaten pizza on the ground. Then to each other. Then back to Stan.

They responded in unison. “We couldn’t sleep because we were hungry.”

Realizing how tired he was, Stan decided not to prod them with any more questions.

“Alright, well… I think I’m gonna go back to bed… You guys should probably try and get some sleep too? I mean, you said you both work in the morning, right?”

“Oh, it’s cool,” Wendy said. “It’s not like, that late, is it?”

“It’s like almost three in the morning,” Kenny told her, checking his phone.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck,” Wendy groaned, her head tilting back until she was looking at the ceiling.

“Right…” Stan said, beginning to excuse himself again. “Well like I said, I’m gonna try and go back to sleep.”

“We’re really sorry we woke you up,” Kenny tried to apologize as he and Wendy followed Stan out of the living room.

“Really, really sorry,” Wendy added.

“It’s cool, guys, no worries.” Stan offered them a sleepy smile to let them know that there were no hard feelings. “Just… try and get some sleep, huh?”

* * *

Wendy and Kenny fell into bed.

"Dude we're... bad at this," the girl said.

"We are really bad at this," the boy agreed.

"Did we like, completely forget how to be actual people?"

"He totally knows something's up. I bet he could smell the pot on us.”

"We didn't smell like pot."

"This whole place smells like pot!" Kenny whispered.

"No it doesn't."

"It does! We're just, uh, what did they call it in that air freshener commercial? We're nose-blind!"

"Dude I BOUGHT like TEN cans of that air freshener and straight up fumigated this place before he got here."

"What if it didn't work? If it worked they wouldn't need to coin terms like 'nose-blind' to sell their shitty product!"

"Oh my god you are Tweeking out right now. He doesn't know shit, okay? I'll make something up tomorrow."

"I feel like that hasn't been working so far."

Wendy’s tone softened. "Look, I'll make sure this is okay. I promise. I know you're stressed about this, and we made some mistakes tonight, but things are going to be fine. I really appreciate you agreeing to do this, and I want to do everything I can to make this easier for you. For all of us.”

"It's not that I don't want him here, y’know? Stan's my oldest friend. It's just that... I know how hard he worked to get away from everything he went through growing up. I'm worried about what he’d think of us.”

"I don't think he'd like... judge us..."

"I know, but… he was in rehab for like, a year and a half. You really think he'd be okay with the fact that we're drug dealers?"

"Ugh. I miss when the secrets Stan and I used to keep from each other didn't have anything to do with me being a drug dealer."

"Okay, you keep like... vaguely referencing shitty stuff from back when you guys used to date. Is there anything you wanna like, talk about?"

"I dunno, do you really think you'd like hearing your girlfriend talk about how shitty the relationship she used to have with your best friend was."

The couple fell silent. They lay next to each other, both looking up at the ceiling.

"Are we fighting," Kenny asked.

"No, we're not fighting. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too. I'm gonna stop stressing out about this. It's not helping."

"And I'm gonna start doing a better job keeping us in check."

"Me too. Tonight didn't count. Tomorrow will be better."

"Tomorrow _we'll _be better.”

The two fell silent once more. Then Kenny spoke.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten that I beat you at Smash, by the way.”

“I was kiiiiiinda hoping you had.”

“Well," Kenny shifted on top of her, burying his face in the crook of her neck and kissing along her collarbone. "I haven't."

"It's not fair that you're good with Ness," Wendy protested as he started making his way down her body. Pulling up the bottom of her t-shirt, he blew a raspberry against her belly. She yelped and giggled as the boy disappeared under the covers of their bed.

* * *

Too tired to keep thinking about what he'd just seen, Stan crawled back into bed and closed his eyes. He could just feel himself beginning to fall back asleep when he realized he could hear another noise coming from somewhere else in the apartment. Concentrating on the sound, Stan tried to make out what it was, before realizing that it was coming from the room directly next to his.

Kenny and Wendy's bedroom.

Oh. God. Ugh.

Cursing the apartment’s thin walls, Stan rolled over and reached into the backpack sitting on the floor next to his bed. Pulling out a tangled up pair of headphones, he unknotted them as best he could before plugging them into his phone and opening up the device’s music app. Stan scrolled through the library contained inside, in search of something soothing to block out the sounds coming from his hosts’ room. After settling on a song by a band that had kept him company many a long night in the Peace Corps, he pressed play and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to take him as the band’s singer began the first verse of the song.

_It’s time the tale were told, of how you took a child… and you made him old._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, welcome to my new South Park fic! If you couldn't tell from the summary, this is a bit of sequel to my recently-completed Kendy fic, Pink Lemonade. Highly suggest you check that one out if you're interested in the history I've written for some of these characters (or if you're just looking for a bangin South Park fic honestly). This new story is primarily going to explore a different relationship though, one that I imagine is probably a little more popular among the fandom. That's all I'll say for now, though; see ya at the next chapter!


	2. Cycling

Clyde's room was a mess. It always was. From the dirty dishes stacked on the desk next to his bed to the pile of clothes emitting a sour stench in the corner, the place clearly belonged to a teenage boy. Still, the unruly clutter inside could never hope to compete with the absolute mess that was about to intrude on the quiet darkness. The door flew open and Stan fell inside, letting light and noise from the party down the hall into the room.

On the floor, Stan clutched his stomach and groaned. Lifting his head and squinting through the darkness, he began crawling towards the small bathroom he knew was attached to Clyde's room. He got up on his hands and knees to move faster, trying to outpace the sickening feeling rising through him and making his face flush with a nauseating heat.

Crossing the threshold into the bathroom, he had just enough time to claw his way to the toilet and empty the contents of his stomach inside.

Stan pulled himself up to a seated position, making sure to stay within reach of the toilet. After using the back of his hand to wipe away any vomit that remained clinging to his lips, he paused to catch his breath. His head pounding, he ran his fingers through his dark hair, which had become damp with sweat. He had just closed his eyes in an attempt to quiet his headache when the bathroom lights flicked on. His eyes twitching open, he found Wendy standing in the doorway. Looking down on him. As usual.

With an exasperated sigh, Stan lifted his eyes and glared at his girlfriend.

"What are you looking at?"

**Cycling: Verb; Moving in or following a regularly repeated sequence of events.**

Her favorite pipe dropping from the top floor of her and Kenny's apartment building down towards the street below, was what Wendy was looking at. It had pained her to have let the pipe slip from her grasp, but considering the alternative was getting caught sneaking a hit out of her kitchen window while waiting for her coffee to brew, the girl's reaction to hearing Stan's voice behind her had been immediate.

Wendy drew her head back in from the window to find Stan dressed in a ratty old sweatshirt and a pair of cotton shorts.

"The sunrise!" she replied, trying to sound as cheery as she could without any caffeine or THC in her veins. "Man, you get up early, huh? If I didn't have to be at work I'd be in bed for another like…"

Wendy realized that being honest about how much longer she would have slept probably wasn't the best decision if she and Kenny were trying to prevent Stan from finding out that they were embarrassingly disgusting stoners.

"Fifteen minutes. Haha."

Stan looked at her, slightly puzzled for a moment. Wendy awkwardly poured herself a cup of coffee and stirred in some cream.

"You work at Tweak Bros. now, right?" Stan asked.

"Oh, yeah, I've been there a few months. I like, jumped on Butters' old job as soon as he disappeared, considering what a step up it was from my last gig."

"Oh yeah? What was your last job?"

An image of herself freezing to death in a gas station flashed in Wendy's mind.

"Library at Middle Park Community. Work study program."

Nailed it.

"Really? It sounds like you'd be way more suited for that than working in food service."

Wendy tried to change the subject. "Yeah, well, the pay was shit. Plus I make a baller cup of coffee now, wanna taste?" She passed her mug to Stan so he could take a sip, which he did.

"Oh, yeah, that is like, really good. Almost makes me miss coffee."

"You don't drink coffee? Damn, I have like two cups every morning."

"That's cause caffeine's addictive. I've been trying to avoid developing any kinda... dependency on things. Know what I mean?"

"Hey, I understand the negative effects too much caffeine can have on a person more than most. I work for Tweek, remember?" Wendy finished her coffee and gathered her things, heading for the door. "I gotta split though. Kenny should be up in like an hour, but is there anything you need until then?"

"I don't think so, but, uh... um. Should I... ask why you two were awake and eating pizza last night at like 3 AM?"

Wendy paused for a moment. She decided she'd had enough lying for one morning.

"No," she replied, before disappearing out the door.

* * *

After Wendy left, Stan retrieved his yoga mat from his bedroom and did his morning routine. Once he was done, he took a shower and donned some fresh clothes, before returning to the apartment's living room to find Kenny leaning out the kitchen window.

Stan greeted his friend good morning. "Popular window, that one."

Taken by surprise, Kenny pulled himself back into the kitchen with a start. "Stan! Hey! Morning!"

"Hey," Stan smiled at him, still not totally sure what was going on but amused all the same.

"I was just about to head out to work. You uh, need anything before I go?"

"Y'think you could drop me off at my parents' house on your way? I actually wanted to see if I could pick up my bike."

"Your folks' place? Is anyone gonna be there?"

"Nah, but I should be able to get in the shed and grab my bike. If I can't I'll just, I dunno, walk somewhere, I guess. Not like I got anything else to do."

"Riding your bike around town all day doesn't sound like the worst plan, honestly. If I didn't hafta be at Hatty's I'd probably join you. It'd be just like when we were kids."

"Might even make ya feel like breaking out that old parka you used to wear back then, huh?"

"That thing?" Kenny scoffed as he led Stan out of the apartment. "Get this: Wendy lost it."

* * *

Wendy stepped out of Clyde's bedroom, wiping a few stray tears from her eyes. After taking a moment to compose herself, she made her way back to the party, back to the crowd of her peers that were still having a good time, and found Kenny.

When Wendy found him, Kenny was sitting on the carpet in the living room, going through Clyde's father's record collection and trying to talk to Red about the Velvet Underground. Half-drunk, the redhead started to look at something on her phone while Kenny babbled at her as if she were still listening intently. Wendy got Kenny's attention just as he was about to finish explaining what Andy Warhol's duties as the "producer" of the band's first record actually entailed.

"Kenny, hey."

Kenny stopped talking about Andy Warhol and looked up at her from his spot on the carpet. "Suuuuuup, Testaburrrger."

"Hey. Sorry. But. C'mere, I need to talk to you."

Kenny got up from the floor and followed Wendy back into the hallway to Clyde's room; Red didn't notice him leave.

Wendy waited until they were a little down the hallway before she turned to speak with Kenny. "Can you take Stan home? He's in Clyde's bathroom. He's like, really gone."

"Jeez, what, already? Uhhhh...no, I can't. I can't leave, Tweek's my ride home."

"I know, but, c'mon, please. I'm... going home and I don't want to leave him hanging out here."

"So you take him home there y'go!"

"Kenny I..." Wendy sighed. "Stan and I just broke up."

"What."

"Yeah, like just now. Okay?"

"Oh. Wow. It's been... a while since you guys last did that."

"Yeah, well, I... think this time's gonna stick..."

"So did you like... dump him?"

"Ugh, Kenny, yes, unfortunately, if we have to get into it..."

"So," Kenny said. "You're like... single."

Wendy's expression soured. "Oh my god. Y'know I am so ready to be in New York City and far away from boys like you, McCormick? I mean-"

"KIDDING! I WAS KIDDING! Look: I'm sorry, okay? That wasn't cool. And I'm sorry about like... you and Stan."

Wendy sighed, backing away from the verge of getting totally pissed off at the blond. "It's... it's fine. Thanks."

"I can-"

"It just fuckin' sucks, y'know?"

Kenny paused and looked at Wendy, realizing that she wasn't looking back at him. "Yeah," he said. "I'll take Stan home, okay?"

"Thanks. You're a good friend, y'know?"

"Ha. If you never tell me that again it'll be too soon."

Parting ways with Wendy, Kenny made his way to Clyde's bathroom, where he found Stan half-conscious and curled up around the toilet. Crouching down, Kenny gave the other boy a little shake to see how lucid he was.

"Hey buddy, you in there?"

Stan turned over a little to see who was disturbing him. Upon seeing it was Kenny, he drunkenly mumbled something that the blond couldn't quite understand.

"I feel ya pal." Kenny helped Stan to his feet, slinging one of the drunk boy's arms around his shoulder to help prop him up, and began to lead him out of the bathroom.

"Wennyfuhginbrohupimee," Stan slurred once Kenny had gotten him upright.

Kenny offered his condolences. "I heard. You remember where your bike's at?"

Ten minutes later, Kenny was sat on Stan's bike, riding it in the direction of the Marshes' house, his friend drunkenly clinging to his back. Considering they were both coming from a party, Kenny wasn't exactly sober himself, which made the journey a little more difficult than it may have been otherwise. The early spring night was crisp enough for Kenny to have his parka on, but the effort of pedaling the bike with the extra weight of Stan on his back had the blond sweating. Trying to will himself as sober as possible, Kenny did his best to keep the bike straight; he still had a scar on his left elbow from one of his previous trips taking Stan home, during which his drunk friend's woozy state had resulted in the two of them toppling over onto a curb.

"Hey," Kenny said to Stan. "I know I said this the last time we did this? But this is the last time we do this. Okay?"

Stan didn't respond.

When they finally reached their destination, Kenny teetered over and their bike wiped out, sending the two boys sprawling onto the Marsh's lawn. Leaving the bike where it lay, Kenny picked himself up, then picked up Stan and dragged him to the front door. After retrieving the house keys Stan kept on the carabiner latched onto the belt loop of his jeans, Kenny opened the door, only for Stan to fall through and land on the floor inside. Looking down at his prostrate friend, Kenny sighed. For the third time that night, he lifted Stan to his feet and helped him upstairs to his room, where, exhausted, Kenny collapsed alongside his friend once more, this time into his bed with him. The two boys lay together in silence for a few moments before Kenny finally spoke.

"I'm gonna need to borrow your bike to get home."

"Tha'sokay," Stan mumbled.

Kenny quietly tried to figure out how many of the last dozen or so parties he'd been too had ended with him and Stan in bed together, the other boy too drunk to speak. "Are... are _you_ okay, Stan?"

Stan didn't answer. The room was so dark that Kenny couldn't tell if he was still awake or not. He could feel Stan breathing next to him though; he could feel the warmth from the other boy's body.

"Kenny..." Stan finally spoke.

"...Yeah?"

"D'you..."

Stan went silent before finishing his sentence, almost as if he had reconsidered what he'd wanted to say.

But then he said it:

* * *

Kenny's beat-up old red Volkswagen Jetta pulled up to the Marshes' house and Stan opened the passenger-side door to hop out.

"Thanks for the ride!" he called to Kenny as the blond leaned over to look out the window at him.

"You got your key to the apartment?"

"Yep!"

"Cool, I get off around six tonight; I'll see you back at our place. Stop by Hatty's if you wanna say hi!"

"I just might!"

Once Kenny had driven off for work, Stan made his way around the back of his house to the shed his family kept in the backyard. Flipping up the mat sitting at the foot of its door, he retrieved the key kept concealed beneath and unlocked the shed, letting fresh air into the tiny enclosure for the first time in months. Going inside, he walked past a set of rusty gardening tools and some folding chairs that he remembered his family taking to Stark's pond whenever they'd go swimming back when he was a kid, to find what he had returned home to get — his bicycle, sitting in the corner of the shed, collecting dust and covered in cobwebs.

Having retrieved his bike, Stan walked it out of the shed and out to the street. Mounting the seat, he took a moment to balance himself, before putting his feet to the pedals and making his way down the road. As he became re-accustomed to the bodily mechanics of riding a bike, he picked up his pace and peddled faster, heading downtown. Lifting himself a few inches out of the seat, he stopped pedaling for a bit and allowed himself to coast on the momentum he'd built up, taking the opportunity to appreciate the warm summer breeze. Eventually he reached downtown, gliding past Tweak Bros. just slow enough to take a glance in the window and catch a look at Wendy standing behind the register. Passing Tom's Rhinoplasty, he hung a left and made his way for Hell's Pass, where he pulled a U-turn and rode back the way he came, in order to point himself in the direction of a different part of the town. And that's how he spent his day: riding past houses, storefronts, and landmarks he'd known his entire life; and realizing that he still knew every inch of his hometown by heart.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set by the time Stan pulled his bike into Hatty's, which meant Kenny would have already gone home. Sure enough, Stan walked into the gas station's convenience store to find its cash register manned by none other than Craig Tucker.

"Hey," Craig greeted Stan as he walked into the store; while less discerning ears would've detected no surprise in Craig's voice, those more familiar with the lanky boy's manner of speech may have just been able to register a slight sense of surprise upon seeing Stan for the first time in several years — only a slight one, though.

"Sup Craig!"

Craig's voice remained dull and monotone as he replied. "Not much. You're back."

"Yeah! I'm back." Stan looked around the convenience store, realizing how little it had changed since he was in high school.

"Kenny said you were back in town. You're staying with him, right."

"Yeah, for the summer at least."

"Cool," Craig croaked. "Did you not wanna stay at your parents' place causa your dad."

Yeesh, Stan had somehow managed to forget how blunt Craig Tucker could be. "Oh, uh, I mean..."

Then Craig looked at him.

Like really looked at him.

And god damn it the guy cracked a knowing smile so small that it was practically undetectable.

And he said, "Hey. I get it."

And Stan had no idea what it was, but something about the way Craig looked and smiled at him and said what he'd said immediately diffused any awkwardness that he'd felt upon hearing his previous question. Hell, there was something about the way Craig had just spoken to him that made him feel like he could breathe properly after having been forced to hold his breath for like, months.

"I mean, yeah," Stan laughed. "Obviously."

Craig clicked his tongue in commiseration. "That fuckin' sucks, dude."

"Ahhhhh, it's whatever; Kenny and Wendy are being great."

Craig gave Stan another knowing look. "'Kenny and Wendy,' right."

Stan's hands flew to his mouth. "Oh my god, I know! I know."

"Straights. There's no telling."

Stan snorted into his palms. "Are you and Tweak and Thomas still doin' the whole, uh..."

"Oh yeah," Craig nodded.

"That's fuckin' nuts, dude."

"Eh," the taller boy shrugged from behind his cash register. "Hey, that gives me an idea though. When was the last time you did like, some gay shit."

"Haha what! Craig Tucker, are you hitting on me? Is two not enough?"

"Oh my god, no, I mean like, some _quote unquote_ gay shit; not like, _actual_ gay shit."

"Oh, like, _gay shit_. Dude, not in like, forever. The Peace Corps was straight as fuck."

"What're you doin' Thursday night. The three of us're gonna head up to Boulder and do some gay shit. You should come with."

"I could probably do that. Yeah, I'd love to do that."

"Cool. Do you still have your same number. I'll text you the plans."

"Sounds good!" Stan grabbed a couple bottles of water from the convenience store's beverage cooler and a bag of trail mix from the rack by the counter and passed them to Craig to ring up. "I'm serious though: this better not be some subliminal attempt to induct me into the Cult of Craig Tucker."

Craig scanned the bar code on Stan's bag of trail mix. "Don't worry," he said. "We only take blonds."

* * *

It was beginning to grow dark as Stan stepped out of Hatty's, depositing the water and snacks he purchased inside into his backpack and getting back on his bike. Kenny and Wendy were probably expecting him to be back at the apartment by now, but instead of pointing his bike towards their place downtown, he instead rode in the opposite direction; and he kept on riding, until he had reached the forest that stood at the edge of South Park, dividing the town from the rest of Colorado.

Stan slowed his bike to a stop as he reached the forest. Taking his feet off the pedals, he dug them into the earth below to keep himself balanced as he sat on his bike, staring off into the trees. Seconds passed, then minutes; and the sky up above grew blacker and blacker as Stan lost himself gazing off into the woods.

"Hey buddy, you in there?"

Stan turned over a little to see who was disturbing him. Upon seeing it was Kenny, he tried to speak, but could only get out a few indiscernible mumbles.

"I feel ya pal."

Stan finally managed to speak once Kenny had helped him to his feet. "Wendy fucking broke up with me."

Kenny offered his condolences. "I heard. You remember where your bike's at?"

The next thing Stan knew, he was drunkenly clinging to Kenny's back as the blond rode him back home. "Hey," Kenny said to him.

"I know I said this the last time we did this? But this is the last time we do this. Okay?"

When they finally reached their destination. Kenny teetered over and their bike wiped out, sending the two boys sprawling onto the Marshes' lawn. Leaving the bike where it lay, Kenny picked Stan up and dragged him to the front door. After retrieving Stan's house keys, Kenny opened the door, only for Stan to fall through and land on the floor inside face-first, the impact from the fall sending his head spinning and ears ringing. After lifting Stan to his feet, Kenny helped him upstairs to his room, where the two of them collapsed into bed together. They lay there in silence for a few moments before Kenny finally spoke.

"I'm gonna need to borrow your bike to get home."

"That's okay."

A few more moments passed before Kenny spoke again. "Are... are _you_ okay, Stan?"

Stan didn't answer. Even in his drunken state, he was thankful that his room was dark enough that Kenny couldn't tell that a few tears had begun to silently fall from his eyes.

"Kenny..." Stan finally spoke, his voice calm despite the tears on his face.

"...Yeah?"

"D'you..."

Stan swallowed, his words caught in his throat as if reluctant to come out. He took a moment to decide whether or not he really wanted to say what he suddenly felt the urge to tell his friend.

And then he said it:

"D'you know many times I've seen you die?"

Stan let his bike fall to the ground as he walked off into the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for keeping up with the fic! Leave a review and let me know how you're liking it so far!


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